A Heart of Ice
by Yuki Nogawa
Summary: Jack Frost is in Arendelle, lonely as usual, when a knock on his door announces the arrival of a pretty young queen, Elsa. He listens to her story of exile, much like his own, and decides to help her save her sister and the kingdom. Unfortunately, he has a secret to keep and a sacrifice to make, but Jack doesn't care. He doesn't want a heart of ice anymore.


_Written from the viewpoint of Jack Frost from Rise of the Guardians._

Okay, just let me say this: most people are way too depressed. They count themselves as being the eternally misunderstood, ignored, unloved, and lonely individual. Hell, at least they aren't invisible to most people. At least they can jump in front of random people at the mall, wave their arms, yell obscene profanities, and at least get a few strange looks. At least they can walk into a store and buy some bread without having to mask the fact that a bun is floating mid-air. At least they can have a life; me, I have nothing.

At first, all I've remembered is the cold. And since then, I'd always had it.

Over three hundred years I've spent living alone, with practically no one to talk to. Yet came a day, a century after I'd been reborn, and I'd first started to truly understand the curses of eternity, when I finally met someone worth it. Worth trying to make myself visible.

It was sometime during the 1800s, when I was camping in Norway. Causing havoc in Norway was always fun, as the humans couldn't really blame the freak storms as other human beings' work. I would run through towns, icing paths and making the snow-shovelers suffer. I would fly across the roofs, sometimes slipping in through a window, although I rarely did that. It brought up too many memories, and I was still a little raw about my old life (not that I could remember it). I was in the vicinity of Arendelle, a quaint little kingdom which I'd gone to before.

Just for fun, I'd run around in Arendelle a few weeks back, making the outside world a misery for people, when I'd seen a poster advertising the coronation of the next queen. When I'd read it, the only thing I had thought was _poor kid_. Her parents had died, but at least she had a sister, Anna. What was her name again — Elsa? At that time, all that registered visually was the image of someone very beautiful, and definitely too young to take the throne by herself.

The blizzard was even worse than I'd created it to be, which worried me a little — perhaps my power was getting out of hand, or perhaps it was just nature lending one. I can stand the cold, but I didn't really like being buffeted around by the fierce winds, so I stayed inside my cozy little hut.

A knock on the door startled me, but experience led me not to open the door. Like horror stories, a door swinging open on its own never invited in company, and I wanted some right now. So I sat on the bed and waited for someone to come in.

She gave me the shock of my life — and considering how long I'd lived, that's pretty impressive. She had doll-like features, but her ice-blue eyes were frantic and her blonde hair was pulled out of its braid. It was a good thing that she couldn't see me, because my jaw was hanging open at her dress.

It was made of the finest material I'd ever seen — even better than the expensive lace and silks from Paris — but good God, she must've been freezing. It was a wonder she hadn't died by now, with no cloak and tiny slippers instead of boots.

She brushed past me to sit on the bed. Only _brushed_ is the wrong word; it implies that there was contact, but she walked right through me like everyone else did. She pulled a blanket around her, and as I watched, first in amazement, then in concern, as a tear traced its way down her pale cheeks. She sat there for some minutes, rocking herself back and forth, as I watched her like I'd watch an endangered animal.

Finally, after a few minutes, she lay down on my bed and closed her eyes. I waited until her breath slowed and deepened, then ran around the room, trying to make this more comfortable. I didn't know who she was, but any pretty girl who's sad and exhausted deserves a warmer welcome, which is why I built up the fire first. I fetched a table from the back room (I don't really eat), and hastily set off to a Swedish town, which was only a few hundred miles from Arendelle. Once there, I complied together a list of foods which she might like, counting on the blizzard to help hide my movements a bit. It let me down, though — there was only a light frosting of snow in Värmland, nowhere near enough to conceal a drifting basket of food which hadn't even been bought properly (I usually left the money on the counter when the shopkeeper wasn't looking).

I took out my staff, a long cane made of frozen wood, and used it to create a miniature snowstorm outside the shop. I really loved that staff. I'd first found it when I woke up floating mid-air above a frozen lake, and it's been my number one companion since then. Sad, isn't it? While passersby looked on in confusion, I quickly took a dozen buns of varying tastes and ingredients, and flew off.

One of the only good parts of my rebirth is the flying — the ability to swoop, dive, twist and turn in the night sky. Once I even flew high enough to touch a few clouds, but then the altitude made my ears hurt, so I descended again. Also, it's the fastest mode of transport I know of. In a few minutes, I saw the twinkling lights of Arendelle, obscured almost into oblivion by the snow. Touching down, I opened the door and crept in.

She was still sleeping, her mouth slightly open. It was actually a very touching scene; she lay there tired and worn, eyebrows furrowed still in sleep, with dried tears on her cheeks. She reminded me vaguely of someone I'd seen before. I strode over and gently brushed the hair back from her face, then quickly laid out the buns on the table: ham and cheese, chocolate, strawberry, plain, sausage, onion and beef. It was a pretty good selection, and I was about to take a bite of the plain bun when the girl behind sat up so suddenly that she probably got a headache. To be honest, I've forgotten what a headache feels like now. I would give the world to feel human pain again.

When she sat up, I backed up so fast that I hit the table with my hip, scattering some of the buns. She whipped her head around quickly, and started when she looked in my direction.

"What…" she trailed off.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to sound bright, yet I couldn't help but notice that tiny note of sadness in my voice. She would never hear me. I was only saying these things to comfort myself. "Don't be alarmed. I just got you some buns, so go ahead and eat them."

She just stared at the food for a second longer, then leapt up and grabbed the chocolate bun. Before eating, though, she turned towards me, and inclining her head, she said simply: "Thank you."

"I — what? Hold on, can you see me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Just because I've been wandering round in a blizzard doesn't mean that my eyesight has malfunctioned."

"No, no," I started to laugh. "You eyesight is excellent! Just brilliant."

She looked at me strangely, perhaps wondering whether she should try to avoid this stranger. I grinned at her (I admit, not my most sane smile), and told her that I needed to go outside for a second. She stood there mutely as I ran out of the door.

Once outside, I let out a laugh, a true one — one that I hadn't had in a long time. I laughed out of sheer relief, happiness, and amazement. I laughed until I cried. I could feel the my heart warming up inside of me; the first conversation I could ever remember having had unlocked all the excitement and joy I had inside. For the first time in forever, I was alive.

I spiraled upwards, heading for the moon. It shone a bright blue light on the snow and clouds, so bright that it hurt my eyes, so I stopped in front of him. That's right, the Man in the Moon — the one who'd given me life, albeit a crappy one, although I was ready to forgive him by giving the girl a special ability inside those blue eyes that reflected the sky.

"Why?" I said. "Why now?"

To me, it looked like the Moon tilted its head and smiled. But perhaps it was just a trick of the light, for after that initial pause, its light faded, and I was left looking at the normal moon that I'd haunted day and night, looking for answers. After a few minutes, when it became clear that the Moon had nothing to say to me, I swooped back down to the ground, and walked in again.

But I paused at the door.

What would she say, if she knew that she was staying in the hut of an immortal spirit, who controlled a terrifying power? What if she found out, what would she do then? My dilemma was, simply: lie to my newfound friend (well, kind-of friend), or risk losing another person? I decided on the former — I could always tell her later.

The girl sat at the table, eating the ham-and-cheese one now. She turned her head when I came in, and smiled. She really had a nice smile, and this one had the perfect mix of embarrassment and dignity in the face of the situation.

"Sorry," she said. "I bet you're wondering why a random person would come waltzing in in this weather. You weren't here when I found the hut, so I came in and … kind of fell asleep, I guess."

"No, it's alright. I was looking for some company," I said. Her voice was clear and sweet, although I detected a faint air of _something _— the kind of voice I once heard King George III address the court in. An authoritative voice, one that was used to being heard. I was still marvelling at the good fortune that had fallen right into my home, and I was keen to make her acquaintance.

"Let's start with introduction, then, shall we?" I asked, already planning in my head my false identity — let's see, I was a merchant's son from Norway, and I was just passing by to go to Arendelle when this freak storm hit. "My name is— "

"No."

"Sorry?" My cheerful voice crumpled, and the girl, hearing this, immediately rushed to explain.

"I mean, I can't," she said. "I don't really want to tell you who I am. You — you wouldn't like me, or want to help me then."

I snorted. Look who was talking. "Don't be silly. It's polite to introduce yourself, especially if the person you're introducing yourself to is your particularly handsome saviour." She rolled her eyes, and I started again.

"Hi, my name is Jack Frost. I'm a merchant's son from Norway, and I was about to go to Arendelle when this happened." I waved my hands over my head to indicate the snow outside.

"Arendelle? That's … nice. I'm from Arendelle, and I'm also headed that way."

"That's not enough. Your name?"

She fingered her dress — damn, I wish I could recognize the material — and looked embarrassed. A blush started working up in her cheeks, and when she raised her head again, she was looking wary but hopeful.

"You won't run away screaming when you hear who I am, right?"

"Wh — right." By now I was slightly worried. Who was she, a serial killer or something? Although I wouldn't particularly mind, seeing as she'd be pretty stupid to try attack me.

She said something quietly.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that. What's your name?"

"My name is Elsa," she said. "Queen Elsa of Arendelle."


End file.
